Not a lot of people know this, because I don't like to brag, but I went to school with Victoria Beckham back in the day, and we've kept in touch over the years. We were in tap dancing classes together, and it was I who helped her through her first bout with bulimia. When she started going out with David, I said, "I'm not sure he's got much upstairs," to which she replied, "Yeah, maybe, but he'll always be faithful, a psychic told me, apart from a spot of shagging with that saucy Rebecca Loos bird a few years down the line, and I'm sure we can get through that."
So I gave her my blessing, and now that she's moved stateside because hubby's got a 128 million pound contract with shitty team LA Galaxy, she's suddenly round my house all the time, and telling me she's got a lot of stuff to say and that she wants a blog. Like, fine. When she started being in the Spice Girls did I go out and try and be in a girls' pop group? Like shit I did. When she dated the captain of the English football team, I didn't copy her, I was going out with Stavros from the local chippy. But now because I have a wicked blog, now Posh wants to have a go.
"Well fine Posh, if you think you're up to it," I said. "But this writing lark is hard work."
"Does it burn calories?" she asked.
"Oh yeah, five hundred an hour."
Well, she fell for it. So here we go, Posh has written a special entry here:
Everyone knows I'm a right stylish bird, right? I woz havin lunch with my best mate Katie, well I says havin lunch I wasn't exactly eating, eating can be bad for you or so my psychic advisor told me. Katie's a scientologist or summink, and she has her head screwed on, that girl. And she tells me, watch out, people are going to be after you, they're jealous of you. Beware, they're gonna try and snatch your kids and also your husband, they might even steal you and try and clone your fabulous figure, you know?
So I starts getting worried. It's a flipping conspiracy, I tell you. In England me and Becks woz Celebrity Royalty, we was above the A list, the A listers used to wipe our arses, know ta mean? I've had Keira Knightly wipe my arse, seriously. But when we gets to the United States of Americas people act like, what, soccer, what the hells that? Kicking a flippin ball around. Why aren't you wearing those head guard things like they do with American Football? No, I sez, David is a God and soccer to us in Blighty its like the business. Anyway, no one seems to understand and now the US immigration people have said we can't have any visas for our two dozen minders.
At passport control they gave me some shit about: "The US authorities will not grant foreigners a work permit if they believe Americans are capable of doing the job." I started screaming, I said, DO YOU KNOW WHO I FUKINN WELL ISS? I'm a fashion ikon and I has my own fashion line. Did you know that? And now you tell me I cant have my minders looking after Cruz and Brooklyn and whatever the other one's called and I'm gonna have to look after the kids myself? Are you fuckin nuts? So they take me to a padded room and I calms down again i tries to bribe them but they aren't having any of it. They won't let the minders into the country and they sez they don't know who I am! The world has gone mad. I show them a photo of Becks but they just look at me like I am crazy.
They says, "Ma'am, that looks like some gay dude mounted on a horse. You sure this is your husband, David Beck-ham?"
I sez yeah of course. the bratz is all screaming and I'm gonna have to look after them all on my own. To top it all I ate half an apple yesterday and I can't eat anything today although I could murder a cashew nut.
I don't like america too much, maybe even madrid was better although they talked foreign like and that weren't easy and they ate paella and weird stuff. I dunno, it's like i'm so perfect and everyone wants a piece of me and soon there won't be any pieces of me left, ya know?
Want to read more? Go to Posh's blog.
The Lounge. Blogging Break.
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